The King Of Brooklyn (Sprace)

Chapter 3- Jack

A/N- Theres two chapters because yesterday I accidentally started a draft instead of publishing the chapter... whoops.

I couldn't stop looking at him. I didn't know why. I had to break eye contact as I noticed the boy looking back at me and blushing. I wondered what he was thinking. I knew what I was thinking, but I thought it would be crazy. Suddenly I find myself walking forward toward Weasel.

"Get the new kid fifty more papes." I said, slapping a quarter down. Yep. Crazy.

"I don't want more papers." The boy said, clearly flustered. Seeing this smart school boy flustered was way too funny for me. I scoffed, almost wanting to embarrass him further.

"What kinda newsies don't want more papes?" I asked, hearing some of my boys say that they wanted more papers. I smirked at him. The new boy blushed harder.

"I'm no charity case." He said, pulling the little kid and starting to walk away. "I don't even know you."

"His name's Jack!" The little boy said. How did he even know...? I wondered.

"Yeah, this here is the famous Jack Kelly. He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Made all the papes." Crutchie steps in to defend my honor. He's the best brother I could ask for. At least when we go to Santa Fe, we'll be there together. I shrugged the thought away, walking up to the young kid.

"How old are you, kid?"

"I'm 10. Almost."

"Well if anyone asks, yer 7. Younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners..." I said, not really believing what I was saying. I never sold with anyone, not even Crutchie. Then this new boy comes, and I want to sell with him on his first day? Get a grip, Jack! Control yourself!

"Who said we wanna partner?" The older boy asked curtly.

"Sellin' wit Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best." Crutchie said.

"If he's the best, whats he need with me?

"You gotta little brudda. And I don't." I came up with that lie on the spot. Crutchie's my brudda, but I just wanted an excuse to sell with these boys. "Wit dat push we could easy sell a thousand papes a week. Ey, look sad kid." The boy puts on his best pouty face. Even I want to buy a pape from that adorable face.

"We're gonna make millions." I say

"This is my brother David. I'm Les." Les says.

"Ey nice ya meet you Davey. My two bits cone of da top, an we split ev'ry thin else 70/30 alright?" I walk away a bit before Les stops me.

"50/50 you wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid." No, yeah that's exactly what I would do. I turn back and walk to him.

"60/40 and that is my final offer." Les looks at Davey, who shrugs.

"Deal." Les says. I spit in my hand and hold it out. Only now does it occur to me that Les won't know what spit shaking is. I'm surprised when Les copies me, spitting into his hand and shaking mine.

"That's disgusting." Davey says from afar.

"That's just business. Newsies! Hit da streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, an this kid ain't gettin' any younger!"